


The Gods are Cruel

by Sansa__Stark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon is infuriatingly himself, Unrequited Love, sansa is slightly OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sansa__Stark/pseuds/Sansa__Stark
Summary: Sansa wants Jon to know she accepts and sees him as a True Stark and her brother, but isn't so sure about this herself...Littlefinger being a prick, Jon being an idiot.Sansa being her queenly OC-ish self.





	The Gods are Cruel

**Author's Note:**

> I read Jonsa fics occasionally, I've been shipping these two since last season, but I just felt after the finale episode we need more Jonsa to keep us going. Especially if we have to wait 2 years to see them in a frame together. So I will write as many Jonsa Fics as I can manage. If this gets good reviews I might continue it and add more characters. This is my first time writing any sort of fan fiction.
> 
> It isn't edited so any error corrections are highly appreciated. 
> 
> *Spoilers*  
> Also JONSA shippers out there I am sorry we had to see what we did in the last episode, it didn't bother me as much except for the fact that that scene was so forced and unnecessary. Am I the only one who thinks Dany and Jon are fake and awkward. Both their characters are so annoying to me right now. Arya and Sansa though!!! They are my Stan right now!  
> All those jumping ships right now I have three words... SHAME, SHAME, SHAME.

He looked terribly hurt and offended by her words, Sansa sighed, looked him straight in the eyes and in all earnesty assured him “you are farther from Joffrey than anyone I’ve ever met”. “Thank you” he replied with no amount of gratitude for her words, she understood he was irritated with her, just as she was with him. It had been like this with them ever since he’d been crowned, maybe even before the battle. She seemed to grate on his nerves and he on hers. They never seemed to agree on anything, his honour and want to do the right thing always overruled his sense of logic and reason. She had to be that sense of reason, she wouldn’t lose him, no more of her family would ever be lost to her, ‘’there is no other left to lose’, she thought bitterly.  
After that their conversation was only more bickering, she asked him to listen to her and take her words under consideration but before he could say anything, Maestar Wolkan announced his presence and presented them with the scroll from Cersie. It annoyed her how they were doing nothing to prepare against this southern threat and Jon had to point out how it seemed as though Sansa admired Cersei. 

“I learned a great deal from her”. It is true, Cersei taught her unbeknownst, Tyrion, Little finger, Ramsay, Theon, Margery, Varys. They all left her with a piece of wisdom which she wouldn’t relent, for it kept her alive. She swore she’d never be at the mercy of another person, she knew it would be hard with Littlefinger around, reminding her of how she and Jon were indebted to him. She had to do something about that, about Lord Baelish.

It was way past midnight when she stole into Jon's solar to read all the scripts he received throughout the fortnight since his coronation, he shared with her what he thought important but she knew every message, whisper and rumour should be read, re-read and assessed.  
She was not prepared to find Jon there, he sat with a tankard of ale in his right hand and a script in the other, brows furrowed in annoyance, it struck her how young he seemed and yet so old, so tattered and beaten, as though the burden of the world was on his shoulders, which it was, what with the dead marching on them.

She wanted to turn away scared to see his vulnerability at display and considering he might as well be bare, his thin night shirt fallen open near his chest. She let her gaze travel down unconsciously and that’s when it caught her eye, that horrid scar standing out, the perfect example of what happened to good men in this world. She wanted to weep, for him and her father, Robb and mother, they should have been the ones to teach her about life, impart lessons about the world. It should have been her mother’s wise, dutiful voice; her Fathers honour and loyalty, Robbs spirit and strength, Jon’s kindness and righteousness. She shouldn’t have had to learn from these vile manipulative people and left alone to manoeuvre in this deadly game of thrones.  
Her family... she sighed deeply still staring at his scar, feeling her eyes moisten with unshed tears, that would never fall. “Sansa”, he called out breaking her reverie, he saw her looking at his bare chest and was flustered, he fumbled with the ties and then looked at her again. “What are you doing up so late”, he took in her appearance, she was in her night robe.  
She almost said she didn’t expect to find him here but then he would know she was sneaking in and she couldn’t let him doubt her intentions, so she straightened and walked in pretending she came to see him. 

As she approached the desk he looked at her with unmasked doubt, “why are you here”, he asked without much courtesy.  
“I had a nightmare, I thought I’d find you here, I just need company, do you mind if I sit by the fire for a bit”, his eyes softened and his gaze was warm and concerned, she felt terribly guilty, he was so good, too good for her. She would never deserve his kindness, love and devotion like Arya, Bran, Robb and even Rickon did, she deserved his trust though, for her methods may be uncouth but her intentions when it came to him and their house would be pure, always!  
“You don’t have to ask Sansa, I am sorry I was just a little perturbed by this message we received from Tyrion". “You aren’t planning on going, are you?“ she made to stand near his chair instead of going to sit by the fire, she looked positively miffed. “San..”, “NO!” she leaned in and took his face between her hands daring him to challenge her, he looked so weary “JON SNOW, you will not leave your home and your people to parley with some southern Dragon Queen” she started shaking her head trying to drive the point across , “I will not let you, I will not…”she struggled trying to keep her emotions in check and failing miserably “I won’t lose my family Jon, I won’t lose you, not to the south, Starks aren’t meant for the south. You will…”, “I am not a Stark” he said smiling at her sadly, with such warmth she couldn’t take it, she grabbed his head like he did on the rampart when he placed a kiss on her forehead, only this was no sisterly kiss, she hoped it to be, she wanted him to feel her love and her acceptance of him, as her brother and wanted to yell at him, shake him and tell him he was more Stark than she could ever be.  
She definitely did not intend for her lips to crash into his, to tilt her head and lean closer letting her fingers tangle in his hair, she was not prepared for his hands on her arms, moving up and down... no they weren’t caressing. They were pushing, she opened her eyes and pulled away like he burned her. Meeting his eyes, she saw it all there, the guilt, disgust and most of all pity, he hadn’t kissed her back. Of course, he wouldn’t! This was Jon Snow, the most honourable man to ever live after Eddard Stark, and what is more dishonourable than acting upon lust and desperation, even though it wasn’t lust that had her do what she did but it was desperation. She was desperate to assure him and more so her of his presence, of his blood and name. It wasn’t meant to be perverse. She felt sick and disgusted with herself averting her gaze the same time her hand came to cover her mouth, she turned and almost ran without a backward glance. 

He watched with despair as she ran out embarrassed, he wanted to call out, to hold her close and tell her he understood. When she first leaned in he had not expected that, he was shocked and a little disturbed, he felt her lips move against his, her hands in his hair and if he closed his eyes, he might have even enjoyed it, pretending it was Ygritte, but this was wrong. This was not his lover, it was his sister, he would never dishonour her, she was vulnerable, hurt and broken and no matter how hard she tried to appear strong as though made of ice and steel, he knew she was much too young to have gone through everything that happened since they left their home.  
He understood! Knew she didn’t mean for it to happen either, he saw her come to her sense and her skin shade red. “I am sorry Sansa, I am sorry for all the wrong we have done you”. This was his last family, he would give her this, this folly would be forgotten, it never happened, this night would be a dream, a bittersweet dream. 

“Kiss me back Jon Snow, show me how much you love me”, she whispered conspiratorially against his mouth, he grinned, that smile he reserved just for her and for their chambers. “I will kiss every inch of you, but first my sweet sister, I would like to see this gown off you,” his eyes dark with lust, she stared back and they changed colour, from stark grey to icy blue, “How I have missed your pretty skin Wife”, said the sickly voice of the Bolton Bastard, she yelled trying to get away, but he was clawing at her neck and chest, she screamed and fought and called for help.  
“Lady Sansa” someone was calling out her name, she cracked her eyes open and shot up, it was cold but she could feel her shift sticking to her skin because of the sweat, shivering she reached for the cover and dismissed the maid who was fretting, asking if she was alright and needed a Maester . She assured her it was just a bad dream and managed to fall back in her bed. 

This was the second time she dreamed of him, of Jon, she shouldn’t, he was her brother that kiss had mortified her and though he never bought it up and acted like it never happened, whenever they found themselves alone together he would shift around as if trying to dispel the awkwardness and ask stupid questions about her health and what not.  
Covering her eyes, she groaned in frustration, that stupid mistake had ruined it, the comfort with which they could speak, now they wouldn’t even bicker as much, if either of them dared to meet each other’s stare one of them would look away embarrassed and Lord Baelish had noticed this, nothing was lost on that inconvenience of a man.  
“What happened with you two, did he think you his wildling lover when in his cups and try something”, she wasn’t sure why he said that but it was too close to what happened, only it was her who tried something and she wasn’t even under the influence of wine. “Lord Baelish you would do well to remember that is the King you speak about and I am his sister”, “Half-sister” he corrected “he’s a bastard, they are all base by nature” this angered her and she let rage overtake when she spoke again. "Jon is the most honourable man I know and he would die before he ever did anything inappropriate or dishonour me, do not ever speak of him in such a manner and do not presume to think that I will let you get away with it the next time you should utter such filth”. He only smirked that god awful self-confident smirk that she wanted to slap off his face. “I was wrong, it isn’t him, it was you.” He said it so bluntly with such confidence that her mask almost slipped, but he saw through it, he taught her how to wear that mask. “I understand Sansa, he is the only family left to you, you think he is kind and honourable, you’ve met monsters for men. My love it is only natural for you to develop this infatuation with him, almost.” Was he analysing her, calling her a victim, making her love for her brother and a stupid mistake seem like some form of coping, questioning her state of mind rather than morality. That is exactly what Jon did, that look of pity on his face when they broke apart, they thought her wanton with grief and betrayal, seeking comfort. Was it true, she couldn't let herself go down that line of thought, not now... not ever.  
“You DARE” she hissed at him and flew out of there burying her hurt, guilt and anger, pulling her mask on, until she reached her chamber. She barred the door and fell against it, that's when the tears started falling. She could not stop the silent stream and the inevitable sobs that broke free, she clutched her skirts and folded her legs, crying for her family, childhood, house, innocence, body, trust all broken and lost, she lay there even after her tears had dried on her face, the chill replacing them. 

He heard that sick excuse for a human call him base and almost stormed out of where he was standing by the pillar, to silence him. When he heard Sansa defend him with such devotion he was dumbstruck, he did not witness it before this unmasked gratitude she bore him for being alive, for being family. It changed something within him in that instant like a part of him melted into nothingness. That part of doubt, uncertainty, sorrow and guilt he held towards Sansa, it cleared away giving him a huge part of his family and comfort, for her undeniable acceptance of him. It was no wonder Petyr said what he did next “I was wrong, it isn’t him, it was you”, he said matter of factly like stating the cold in the north. He knew she let her mask spell then even he could see it clear as day on her face, her affections, but she covered up with the slightest hesitation. “You Dare” she chided him murderously, and all but ran from there. He followed her but couldn’t find it in him to catch her in this moment, it wasn't right. So, he just leaned outside her door as she barred it shut, he stayed there until he heard her sniffs turn into despairing sobs and then silence. He wanted to reach out call her name, demand to have the door unbarred and fill her in his arms only to never let go, he wanted to comfort his little sister, for that is what she was, what she would always be to him.  
He stood up right before the crack of dawn with sore muscles and a crick in the neck, the guards were shifting nervously, they weren’t close enough to hear her sob but they saw him stand and eventually fall asleep outside his sister’s doors. He stood and they bowed as he briskly walked back to his chambers with a dead foot. 

 

She first heard the guards whispering as she walked out and they silenced themselves, like kids planning something they shouldn’t, then she heard a maid giggle to another near the kitchens. “the whole night” they exclaimed. She was confused now and wanted desperately to figure out the concept of this rumour, she never paid mind to rumours of giggling kitchen girls but something gave her a foreboding.  
Walking briskly to the great hall she almost collided into Littlefinger , he held her still and took advantage of his chance to touch her, she moved back and gave him a disinterested look, he gave her his annoying all-knowing smirk. “I hear your brother spent the entire night looking more morose than usual outside your chambers” she stilled and he knew he caught her by surprise, somehow that made him happier and also angrier. “Maybe your brother reciprocates your affections, of course the others just think how devoted the King is to his sister. I heard the maids whisper if he could stay the whole night outside his upset sister’s door, he might be such a sweet lover, little do they know you are also the lover in ques...."  
She slapped him across his face, he hadn’t expected it, she hadn’t expected it either. So all she could do was stare with anger and guilt burning her, Brienne appeared to her side glaring at Baelish like he was the one who raised a hand to her and she quickly escorted Sansa away from him. She went straight to the Godswood, heart in her mouth and asked Brienne to not follow.  
After what seemed like ages in the woods, she felt a presence behind her and right enough, he was there in all his glory, broad and confident, kind and beautiful, her half-brother, her hero and her love, she knew in that moment Petyr was right, she didn’t know how or when these feelings creeped up one her but they hit her with such an impact that she almost doubled over. He held her as she sagged against him breathless; he knew, he heard her cry, he heard that conversation between her and Bealish there would be no other reason for him to stand outside her door, he must think her weak and disgusting. She couldn't understand it either when and how her love for him turned into this, she wanted him like no sister should want a brother, knowing he would never see her as anything but a sister.  
Breaking away from him only once her breathing felt normal and her heart rate slowed she let herself look him In the eyes and saw such love and pity it hurt and comforted in quality measures. He began to speak “I love you”, he said and she looked at him sadly, “you know you are my home, my family, everything the north ever meant to me is encompassed in you now and forever. You are my sister and I will die before I ever let anyone hurt you”. She wanted to grimace and yell, tell him he was hurting her now, the most she had ever been hurt, someone who saw her father’s head cut off, got raped, beaten and abused, used by bigger better players, was the most hurt she could ever be because she did not know a broken heart was worse than a broken body and mind. She never loved before, with Joffrey it was never love, nor with Tyrion, Ser Loras or The Hound. NO ONE!  
Jon, she had to pick only Jon to love, her bastard brother, her father’s insult to her mother, the one and only flaw in his honour, Arya’s favourite brother, Robb’s best friend, the white wolf, Her King.  
She kissed his cheek whispering “I know” in his ears, and walked toward the castle with loneliness and misery her only companions. 

 

He saw her walk away from him silently like a ghost, like a shell of the Sansa he knew as a kid, a woman broken and lost to heartbreak and he knew he could never protect her, not from her heart, especially when he was the one causing the pain. He wanted to yell at the unfairness of it all, wanted to hate her for putting this burden on him. He did hate her for feeling this way, knowing he could never give her what she wanted and needed, he may have the power to but his honour and heart stood as barrier.  
He would only ever love one woman with hair kissed by fire and that was not to be Sansa not to be his last family.  
The Gods were cruel, they were playing with them, with their emotions, testing him. How could he ever pass this, when on one side there was a threat of losing himself, his self respect and sister, on the other her heart and trust.  
The Gods are truly cruel.

**Author's Note:**

> Well thank you for reading and see you soon with a new fiic or with an extension of this, I might change tags if I continue this ;) 
> 
> If I am bad or some of it is dragged or wierd let me know I usually write poems not short stories. So this is a new page for me.


End file.
